Tell Me You're Scared
by kkingofthebeach
Summary: There's nothing Cas hates more than Dean being too reckless, and Dean just loves to see him get angry about it.


There's nothing Cas hates more than Dean being too reckless. He hates the smell of exhaust fumes, and can't stand the quiet buzzing of fluorescent strip lighting; but none of it compares to Dean putting his life on the line.

They hadn't been working a particularly special job; just a few witches that they'd come across while they were passing through town. But by the time Cas had showed up, Dean already had a broken arm, fractured ribs, and was spitting out blood. Sam was pinned against a wall and escaped the same torture as Dean, because _he_ hadn't tried to buy time by mouthing off at them.

It's down to Cas to dispose of the witches and clean the boys up, and although he begrudgingly heals up Dean's broken bones and internal bleeding, he leaves the scratches and cuts on Dean's face to heal by themselves – because yes, he's angry. Sam is smack bang in the middle of a growing tension between Dean and Cas, and it's not something he wants to get caught up in. He knows how their little arguments get out of hand and usually end up with destroyed furniture – and he's pretty sure it's got nothing to do with them physically fighting. So as soon as they get back to the motel, Sam stays in the car and exiles himself to the bar down the street to wait it out, _wishing_ that the two of them would just get a separate room already, for his sanity's sake.

Dean knows that Cas is annoyed, but he can't help what he says next, he's just trying to the fill the silence that engulfs them. "Jesus, Cas, what's so far up your ass today." And he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

"You always do this – it's as though you have a death wish!" Cas grits out, clenching his fists by his sides.

"I'm a _hunter_; my entire existence is a death wish, in case you hadn't noticed." Dean walks further into the room and throws his duffel on the bed, catching sight of himself in the mirror. He tentatively brings a hand to the gash above his eyebrow, which is still leaking a little blood, and turns back to scowl at Castiel. "Did you leave all of this on purpose?" He asks, pointing towards his raw face, but Cas just ignores the question and crowds into his space.

"You don't have to do that – if you'd have just called me earlier, this wouldn't have happened!" He takes another step forward, eyes boring into Dean with a livid heat behind them. "How do you think it makes me feel when I find you on the brink of death because of your _pride_?"

The slow, deliberate clip of Castiel's words has heat pooling low in Dean's stomach. He knows this is supposed to be a serious argument, but the tightness of Cas' jaw and the sheer level of how much he _cares_ is getting him off. He grabs Cas' face and kisses him, expecting Cas' expression to soften as he kisses back and lets it go. Instead, Cas pulls away abruptly and shoves Dean backwards into the table, the backs of his thighs stinging with the impact.

"That doesn't fix anything, Dean." He says roughly, hands clamped around the lapels of Dean's jacket. He's stern, but Dean already knows exactly how this is going to end, and he'd rather skip past the petty accusations and head straight for the sex.

"I know, I know." Because he does, Cas will no doubt bring this up again, but even as he says it Dean is leaning into Cas and letting the words ghost over his mouth. He tries again, pulling at Cas' lip a little with his teeth to get him to play. This time Cas does kiss back; he moves into the space between Dean's legs and keeps pushing him back, until Dean is sitting on the table with Cas' iron grip still on him. He bites Dean back, opening up his split lip and letting the coppery taste of blood pass through each other's mouth as he curls his tongue around Dean's, licking into his mouth while their teeth clang.

Dean is already half-hard when Castiel presses into him, aligning their hips before grabbing Dean's ass to reposition him even closer. Dean's breath catches as Cas hitches one of his legs up, and he can feel the heat coming from beneath Cas' slacks, the hard press of his cock against his own. Cas starts rolling his hips upward, and the bruising hold his fingers have on Dean's hips have him even harder in his jeans, starving for some pressure and friction.

"This argument is not over." Cas says gruffly, his voice significantly lower as it sends the blood rushing straight to Dean's cock. God, he's still so angry, but it just means he punctuates every word with a hard grind of his hips, and Dean groans at the feel of their cocks almost touching, just a wall of denim and cotton between them. Dean's isn't paying attention to what he's saying though, only the way Cas' voice rumbles through him in time with his thrusts, and it has Dean's eyes rolling back into his head.

"Fuck – fuck, I'll risk my life more often if it gets you like this." Dean blurts out, and he reaches out to hold onto clumps of Castiel's hair, pulling on it to drag him further down, enough to have his lips on his again. His cock is dripping pre-come as he empties his moans into Cas' mouth, and he feels like he might come already with Castiel lapping at his tongue and grinding his length against him relentlessly.

"Don't." Castiel presses his thumb against the hollow of Dean's throat and bucks into him, and Dean is tensing up and coming in his pants at the heated look in Cas' eyes again, and his thighs are trembling as he slumps back down onto the table.

"Sorry, Cas, okay." He says against his mouth, because he's falling into a post-climax haze already and just wants to give Castiel whatever he wants. He moves to kiss along Cas' jaw as he reaches down and eases the zip down over Cas' length, pushing his slacks and underwear down midway. Cas convulses forwards with a guttural moan when Dean's hand wraps his cock, and as his fist pumps up and down he finds it fairly impossible to continue being irritated as him. Dean's lips are at his neck, sucking and biting marks into the skin as he smiles at the breathy little sounds Cas makes. "Cas, please." He mumbles, breath hot on Cas' ear as he tugs on the lobe and drags his thumb over Cas' slit. His grip on Dean tightens as he comes over Dean's hand, a stripe painting his t-shirt as he strokes Cas through it and grins up at him lazily.

Cas sinks into Dean, letting him bear the brunt of his weight as his limbs sink boneless into him. "This doesn't make it okay." He huffs against Dean's shoulder, but the smoothness to his voice says otherwise.

"Yeah, sure."


End file.
